


The Pharaoh's Lotus Garden—Part II

by Lightningpelt



Series: Those Who Rule Egypt [5]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ancient Egypt, Ancient Egypt, Character Development, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friendship, M/M, Power Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-18
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-05-21 21:10:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 11,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14922905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightningpelt/pseuds/Lightningpelt
Summary: Chapter Nine: In which Yugi decides to coax Ryou from his room, one sweltering summer afternoonChapter Ten: In which the King of Thieves teaches the Great Royal Husband his tradeChapter Eleven: In which Priest Seto greatly overestimates his own abilitiesA collection of oneshots and drabbles within the TwRE-verse; Ancient Egypt AU feat. Pharaoh Atem, Great Royal Husband Yugi, the dethroned Thief King, and his devoted husband Ryou Bakura. Ideally to be read after What Followed the High Priest Home. Can be read separately, but they'll make more sense with context.





	1. In which Thief King Bakura lectures Yugi about his habit of befriending bad guys

**Author's Note:**

> This first one's pretty short. But the [first chapter of TPLG PI](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13818006/chapters/31775880) was Thief King + Yugi bonding, and so in keeping with tradition... 
> 
> Welcome to part five of Those Who Rule Egypt! Can you guys believe it? I hella can't. Thanks for sticking with me, your readership means the world! ;w; 
> 
> If you're a new reader who's just wandered in, hello! Please stay a while. :'D It is my duty to let you know that this isn't the intended starting point, but by all means do as you will; I won't argue. The series does start [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13614267/chapters/31256799), though. :3  
> A quick note for new readers: **WARNINGS** for this series include some sexual situations and banter, steamy fade-to-blacks (especially "mature" chapters in the drabbles collections will be marked with an (M) in the chapter title), talk about past trauma and starvation, and mentions of/ruminations on suicidal thoughts and actions. Additional warnings may be added by chapter.

"Hey." 

Yugi glanced around, startled by the call. It took him a moment to locate the King of Thieves, perched cross-legged on the ledge of the palace's first floor. He motioned, and Yugi tilted his head. 

"Come up here, for a sec." 

Yugi frowned. "Not everyone can scale the walls like a cat, you know..." 

Bakura smiled, then leaned precariously far down the wall and offered his hand. "Come up here, for a second." 

Yugi sighed, then trotted over and clasped Bakura's hand. He squeaked in surprise when the Thief King heaved him up with seemingly no effort whatsoever, lifting him with disorienting speed. Yugi grabbed the roof's ledge and pulled himself up the rest of the way, then huffed as he settled down beside Bakura. 

"Fish?" 

Yugi had no idea where Bakura had pulled the scraps of food from, and shook his head. "I'm okay, thanks..." 

"Cheese? Or fig bread?" 

"No thanks, really." 

"Wine?" 

Yugi sighed. "... Fine." 

Bakura grinned; produced two bowls from gods-knew where, and poured them both some wine. "How's your day going?" 

"Fine. Pretty usual." 

"Haven't found any strangers wandering around the garden?" 

Yugi blinked. "What?" 

"This Joey kid," Bakura said, sipping his drink. "How exactly did your neck get all bruised, that day? The day he and the High Priest arrived?" 

Yugi felt his face heat. "Well... I..." 

"You can tell me. I like the kid—I'm not gonna go after him, or anything like that." 

Yugi nodded. "Yeah... he was looking for Seto. He grabbed me. He had no idea who I was." 

"And I'll bet you did something stupid like offer to be his friend, didn't you?" 

Yugi nodded. 

"Remember what I told you? When you let me out of the dungeons, that first time?" 

Yugi shook his head. 

"I told you not to think you can make friends with just anyone, just because it worked with me!" the Thief King said. "And now that it worked with the Joey kid, too, the habit'll probably get worse! Mark my words, pharaoh-ling, next time you'll run out of luck!" 

"He didn't know who I was!" Yugi objected. "And he didn't mean—" 

"And next time, they _will_ know who you are," Bakura cut him off. "Next time, they'll want to kill you. And you'll give them all the opportunity they need to do it, just by offering to shake their hand." 

Yugi's face flushed red; he pursed his lips and looked away. Bakura let out a harsh sigh. 

"Look, you're the Great Royal Husband. You're the Pharaoh's greatest weakness. Someone wants to hurt him, they'll go straight for you. You _can't_ make yourself such an easy target, for people like that. Think of how Horus would feel—it'd kill him. And I'd feel pretty bad, too. And Ryou, he's a crier. He'd cry for a year straight, if something happened to you, and that'd break my heart, and then I'd take it out on that stupid Priest Set, and everything would fall apart from there. We'd all _die_ , and you wouldn't even be alive to apologize." 

Yugi gave a faint chuckle. "It wouldn't... I'm not going to get hurt. I promise." 

"Then be a little smarter, or you won't be able to keep that promise." Bakura's voice had an edge to it, and Yugi shivered. "And I won't forgive you, if you break that promise." 

"Okay. I'll be careful." 

"Good." Bakura drank his wine; stared out at the courtyard. Surprisingly few palace-folk noticed them, where they sat, and those that did only smiled up in bemusement. It occurred to Yugi, as he sipped his own drink, that he should take the trouble to glance up more often.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins the next part! I'd like to take the opportunity here (where it hopefully won't get in the way too much) to make a couple of housekeeping notes: 
> 
> -LOOK AT [THIS AMAZING ART](https://78.media.tumblr.com/0bee8ccd899280b60a223d953bdbbdca/tumblr_inline_p9gq99WQfZ1uo0tx4_400.jpg) BY [THIS GREAT PERSON](https://super-lovely-collection.tumblr.com/post/174352392658/the-pharaohs-lotus-garden-1-12) (for [this chapter](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13818006/chapters/32940558), if you guys don't recall~)  
> -WFtHPH was _the_ puppyshipping-focus story. It'll be more of a background pairing from this point on, though Seto and Jou will definitely be sticking around. c:  
>  -The TwRE tumblr (ThoseWhoRuleEgypt (dot) tumblr) is now caught up with the AO3 version! I chatter about the AU a lot over there, and would love it if you popped in, if that blue hell is your fancy~  
> -The next "main" story will be the Marik-focus! I'm super excited.  
> -I'll be going out of town (abroad, actually! :o) from 6/22-7/5, so I may vanish completely for that period of time. Advanced apologies.


	2. In which the King of Thieves establishes a new morning routine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate each and every one of you so much. <3 Sneaking in one more before I fly out tomorrow, in the event that I don't manage to update until I'm back. :3 
> 
> As you may recall, the timeline in these gets a bit float-y at times. I think of this one as happening before Priest Seto's return, but upon consideration it could really happen at any time. :P 
> 
> I've found somewhat conflicting information regarding this particular subject, but I'm citing [this article](http://www.reshafim.org.il/ad/egypt/timelines/topics/meat.htm) as my source, this time 'round. c:

Palace life began, in earnest, with the sunrise. The Pharaoh himself was usually a little slower to rise, and no one begrudged him the few minutes' extra sleep. The Thief King, conversely, was typically up and about some time earlier. It wasn't uncommon for Ryou Bakura to wake alone in the bed they shared, and he didn't think much of it past the first day's panic that the Thief King had run off in the night. 

Then Bakura started returning with breakfast. 

"If I lurk about the stables for a bit, I can sneak off with this much easily!" he said, when Ryou questioned the mysterious appearance of a half-dozen eggs and a pitcher of milk on the table—the latter of which was still warm. 

"Don't steal food," Ryou scolded mildly, though he watched in fascination as Bakura cracked open one of the eggs and swallowed it whole. He'd never seen eggs eaten, by his Thief King or anyone else. Better, or so stated by common wisdom, to wait for them to hatch and then eat the grown birds. "You don't need to steal food. How embarrassing would it be if you got caught?" 

"I won't get caught. King of Thieves, my gem." 

"We were planning to eat breakfast with Lord Yugi, this morning." 

"This way we get _two_ breakfasts, and isn't that even more delightful than one?" 

Ryou frowned as Bakura swallowed another egg; washed it down with some of the milk, and then held out the pitcher appealingly. Ryou sighed; took it. He was very fond of milk, after all, and this particular milk was as rich and delicious as any other palace food. He poured some into a bowl for himself; stirred in honey to sweeten it, and sipped it. 

He still repeated, after a moment, "Don't steal food, Thief King. We don't need to do that, anymore." 

And Bakura, though he was licking slimy egg white off his fingers, nodded and mumbled an assent.

... ... ... 

The next morning, Bakura once again beat the sun up; returned with eggs and milk.

"Thief King!" 

Bakura shrugged, spinning an egg on the tabletop in an absentminded way. "It's my nature, dear." And he apologized with kisses and insistent offers of fresh milk. 

As the days went on, however, and this became a routine, Ryou's anxiety only mounted. Bakura seemed far too pleased with his newfound habit to consider altering it, and eventually Ryou was compelled to seek consult. 

"Lord Yugi?" 

Yugi glanced up from where he was sitting on the ground, sorting through Duel Monster cards; smiled. "Ryou? What's up?" 

Ryou fidgeted; said, "I'm worried, Lord Yugi..." 

"Worried? And relax, please—I'm not 'Lord Yugi,' okay? I'm a friend. You can talk to me about anything." 

Ryou nodded; took a deep breath, and blurted out, "Bakura's been stealing—eggs and milk, every morning!" 

Yugi blinked. "Stealing? No, he hasn't." 

Then it was Ryou's turn to look startled. "What? But he _has_! He said—! And he's come back to our room, every morning, with eggs and milk!" 

All at once Yugi was laughing, lightly—which only befuddled poor Ryou further. "He has. I know. But he hasn't been stealing them." 

Ryou sat down heavily next to him. "He hasn't been? Where's he been getting them, then?" 

"He hangs around the stables in the mornings," Yugi said. "Watches the sun come up, from the roof, as I understand. The servants who work out there with the livestock were pretty nervous, at first, but now they're super used to it. At some point, they started giving him fresh milk, like they do with the wild-cats that skulk around there at dawn. He didn't talk to them much, at first, but he's started striking up conversations more recently. I think that got them a lot more relaxed, about the whole thing. They've all been getting along really well, actually." 

"He's been...?" Ryou echoed in amazement, and Yugi nodded. 

"Bakura asked them why we never eat eggs, about a week back. So they started giving him some of those, too." 

Ryou sat stunned, for a moment, and eventually asked the only question that came to him. "Why don't _we_ eat eggs? Its not normal, that's why! Where in Renenutet did _he_ pick up the habit?"

... ... ... 

"Eggs are easy to steal," was the Thief King's answer, when Ryou asked him the next morning. He sent one of the oblong white things skidding across the table, and Ryou scrambled to catch it. "I wasn't always a King of Thieves, my gem. When I was a kid, I couldn't catch a wild bird, or steal a tame one. So I made due with eggs."

Ryou thought about that, for a moment, turning the egg over in his hands, and then said, "They look awfully slimy." 

"I guess they could be a bit of an acquired taste," Bakura admitted, cracking one open on the table's edge. He considered it before breaking it fully open. "Gotta swallow 'em in one go, quick, or they'll make you gag." 

Ryou wrinkled his nose; Bakura ate his egg without further suspense, then swiped his tongue around his lips. 

"Filling, though... and nutritious..." the Thief King said, with a soft sigh. He leaned forward on the table, resting his head on his arm. He toyed with another egg, balancing it on its end with one finger. "One or two of these'd carry me through a day pretty well, when I was small. And here I am in the Pharaoh's palace, in a nice room I've been told is mine to live in, and I'm right back to stealing eggs for breakfast. Old habits never die, isn't that the truth?" 

And Ryou decided, then, to not tell Bakura that he'd been caught in the lie—that the Thief King no longer stole eggs for his breakfast, but was instead given them by servants of the Pharaoh in return for his early-morning company.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's worth noting that Atem and Bakura have _totally_ opposite sleep habits. Not only do they wake up at different times, but Atem isn't a napper—Bakura is. Atem is _out_ for a solid eight hours every night (all-nighters aside), but he's up and functioning the rest of the time; Bakura usually gets four-five hours a night (he actually _can't_ stay asleep for longer than that), but it's not at all uncommon for him to crash and take a two-hour nap (or multiple shorter ones) in the middle of the day. As with most things in their respective lives, Atem sticks to a schedule while Bakura does whatever he darn well feels like doing.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed this bit of daily-life fluff! <3 Comments delight me to no end, and your continued readership honors me. See you all again soon! QuQ


	3. In which Yugi meets with the lover who lives in his dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  ** _GUYS I'M BACK_**  
>  I missed the fandom and this project so much (had a blast anyhow, but it's good to be back)! I made some major rough-drafting progress with the... the main story that happens _after_ the next main story (whoops I'm in so deep). 
> 
> But now! You guys know that Gemshipping is my OTP, so you've gotten lots of background on the Gem relationship in this AU. But please realize that Puzzleshipping (/Blindshipping) is _such_ a close second, and I've just been _waiting_ to share these next two chapters with you! So here's some Puzzle-centric backstory! It happens before For Love of Pharaoh and King.  
> 

"Going to bed so soon, Yugi?" 

Yugi Mutuo nodded; feigned a yawn. "Sorry, Grandpa... I'm just really tired. Was there anything else you needed me to do, tonight?" 

The grandfather shook his head. "Thanks for helping with the shop. Get some rest. Sleep well." 

Yugi nodded; ducked into his small room behind it's frayed curtain. He rushed through his routine—cursory washing of face and hair, folding of robes, donning of nightclothes—then blew out the little lamp on his desk and all-but dove into bed. 

Excitement made it near impossible for Yugi to fall asleep, but he forced his eyes to stay shut; willed his consciousness out like the flame of the lamp, and eventually he eased himself into the dark, warm waters of sleep. 

_"Hikari."_

_The gentle call made Yugi's eyes snap open, but he was no longer in his own bed. He was floating, instead, in a viscous purple smoke that had grown familiar to him, and he smiled._

_"Yami!"_

_There was a man coming towards him—striding across the smoke as one might walk on the surface of water, his steps quick and light and graceful. Yugi hurried to meet him, and they clasped hands. Neither was bothered by the fact that clothes didn't exist—indeed, never existed—in the domain of dreams._

_"Hikari. Welcome back."_

_They called one another, in lieu of names, Yami and Hikari—dark and light. Their similarities in appearance were striking, despite a notable difference in height and demeanor. He found it difficult to remember exactly what Yami looked like, upon waking, and so found himself looking into the mirror for clues. This, of course, served only to exaggerate the similarities in his own mind. Yugi often wondered if the man was somehow a part of himself—some portion of himself that had separated from the rest and gained its own self-awareness._

__

__

_Yami had referenced similar musings, about whether the other might simply be a part of himself or a creation of his own mind. While Yugi was confident that his waking life—his mother and his grandfather and his games; his own reflection in the mirror—were no mere imagining, he didn't voice such things. Yami most likely had similar certainties about his own existence, after all._

__Maybe... _he thought,_ that’s why we’ve never asked one another’s names... we’re both afraid that they’ll be the same... __

_Their surroundings, the purple dreamscape where they always met, was apparently endless. During countless visits, they had explored it, sometimes together and sometimes one in search of the other. Yami always appeared from one side, and Yugi from the other. If they traveled far enough in either direction, they would reach one of two rooms—islands amid the ubiquitous purple. One seemed to reflect Yami, dark and hidden and brooding. The other was unmistakably Yugi's, bright and filled with games of every kind. They sometimes spent time in one room or another, but more often met in the neutral violet in-between. Whether the rooms represented two separate minds or were simply opposing ends of the same one, neither Hikari nor Yami bothered to debate._

_Yami leaned down; kissed Yugi's mouth, and Yugi gave a surprised little moan of pleasure. He felt the other's passion like it was his own—perhaps because it_ was _his own, but that didn't matter._

_"I almost couldn't get to sleep, tonight..." Yugi murmured, his lips brushing the other's. "I was too excited. I wanted to see you."_

_Yami smirked. "And I you, my love. I had to sneak away from my responsibilities, tonight, to sleep. But you're more important to me than such things."_

__Responsibilities... _Yami referenced such things frequently, and Yugi wondered what he could be referring to. They both spoke of their waking existences in the vaguest of terms, instinctively, to avoid disproving either of their existences._

_"What's the matter?" Yami asked gently, pulling back slightly; his eyes, deep and serious and earnest, gleamed in the violet half-light. "You're troubled?"_

_Yugi shook his head. "Mm-mm. No... not troubled..." He stretched up; kissed Yami again, more insistently. "I just love you... I love you so much..."_

_Yami groaned softly; murmured, "And I you, my love... partner... my Hikari..." and pressed their bodies close together._

_They both knew, naturally, where and how the other liked to be touched—they knew, and felt a shared sense of gratification. While their specifics—sweet spots and desires—differed, each felt the other's pleasure as if it was their own._

__But perhaps... _Yugi thought, though his mind was hazed as Yami moved over him; inside him,_ we _are_ two different people... who have somehow found one another here... in this place of dreams.

_Either way, he decided, he really didn't care._

_The dreams didn't usually end there—sexual gratification wasn't the sole purpose of their meetings. Yugi lay with Yami's head resting on his chest; played with the larger man's soft hair. _Softer... than mine... and floral-scented..._ _

_"Are you alright, Hikari? Really?"_

_"Hmm?"_

_"You feel thin. Tired."_

_Yugi shrugged. "It's a bit rough, lately. But I'm fine." He stopped just short of mentioning his grandfather—of telling Yami about the game shop, and about the debts that were piling up._

_"You're sure?"_

_"Mm-hm. I'm sure."_

_If they were, indeed, separate people, Yami was likely high-born. Yugi could tell that much, from how he spoke. Perhaps that was why they were never clothed, when they met—like their names, clothes would provide entirely too much context._

_"Are_ you _alright?" Yugi asked, by matter of course._

_"I'm fine..." Yami sighed softly; closed his eyes. "I never was a very sound sleeper, you know... before we met... I wake feeling much more rested, nowadays."_

_Yugi glanced down in surprise._ Before we met...? _"Do you remember dreaming at all, before we met?"_

_Yami’s brow creased thoughtfully, though he didn't open his eyes. "... I think so? Nothing substantial... just the usual, the falling and the occasional naked-in-public nightmares. Why?"_

_Yugi frowned, then, and said, "I don't remember dreaming at all, before you."_

_They fell silent for a moment. The air grew thick, as it did when one of them accidentally cast doubt onto the other's existence. It had been happening more frequently, seemingly without bias towards either of them._

_"You can tell me anything, you know..." Yami breathed, after a moment; twisted so he could look up at Yugi. "I know the risks of that, but..."_

_"We both exist here, and we can meet here," Yugi replied, with a note of finality. "Isn't that enough?"_

_Yami hesitated, then said, "As you wish it, my partner," and laid his head back down._

_"There are things you wouldn't tell me, right?"_

_"There are_ certainly _things I wouldn't tell you. But not because I don't trust you—because I'm afraid it would change things, between us."_

_"I feel the same."_

_Yami chuckled softly. "Strange situation we've found ourselves in, hmm?"_

_"Strange..." Yugi sighed; pulled slightly at Yami's shoulder. "Wonderful, though. Come kiss me, again."_

_"As you command, my love," Yami murmured; twisting and propping himself up to meet Yugi's searching mouth. "I love you..."_

_"I love you, too."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be the dynamic from Atem's perspective~ Thank you so much for your readership, as always! <3


	4. In which Atem meets with the lover who lives in his dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are fabulous. Here's another chapter. <3  
> [Suggested listening~](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dVoxOYNdMR4)
> 
> I think I'll do at least one more of these in Part II, involving their dreams, but not right away—after-while. ;3

The Pharaoh of Egypt sat at his desk, pensively combing through his carefully spiked hair. He thought of his duties; of his people. He thought of his cousin, the High Priest of Egypt, and of his late father. 

He thought of the young woman he had been presented with, that day, as a possible suitor—thought of her wealthy, influential father, and frowned. He thought of the expectations placed upon him, as Pharaoh, and scowled as his comb got caught. 

He wondered how anyone—his cousin, or his servants, or his long-deceased father—would react if he told them that he was in love. They might be receptive to the idea, but only until he told them _who_ he was in love with. 

Pharaoh Atem had a lover who visited him only in dreams—a lover whose name he didn’t know, whose face he struggled to recall, when he woke, and whose existence he doubted on a very regular basis. 

The Pharaoh gave a small sigh; set his comb down and rose, smoothing out his nightclothes and extinguishing the candles about his room. Then, with only the silver moonlight to see by, he crawled into his bed—soft, cooled in the summer and warned in the winter by his magicians—and closed his eyes. 

_Atem came to on a stone pathway. Behind him, it stretched out into pitch darkness; if he followed it, he knew, he'd come upon the dusty room where his own soul dwelt. But he had no desire to go there. Instead, he walked off the sheer drop, where the path ended—walked into the purple fog beyond his own soul room, and kept walking, putting more and more distance between himself and his own reality. He was glad of the absence of jewelry and stifling silk, in this place; glad that his body was just that—his body, unadorned and, in so much, unidentifiable as the body of the Pharaoh._

_He had no way of knowing, of course, if this violet murk was simply an extension of his own mind; if the lover he encountered there was simply a part of himself. It didn't matter, though. It didn't matter, not so long as—_

_"Yami!"_

_"Hikari!" Atem's tension eased when the other called out to him—called out to him as "Yami," not as "Pharaoh" or even "Atem." The smaller boy approached quickly, almost running through the spectral mist, and Atem embraced him. He pressed his face into Hikari's hair—spiked, and tri-colored like his own, but coarser to the touch and streaked through with purple as opposed to the scarlet tones of Atem’s locks. Then he held Hikari out at arm's length, reminding himself, gratefully, what that gorgeous face looked like._

_"Yami—“_

_"I love you." Atem cut him off gently, pressing starved lips to Hikari's. The smaller boy obliged willingly, wrapping his arms around Atem's shoulders and pulling them closer together._

__I love you. I love you. I love you. _Atem wondered how he had managed to exist before, without the feeling—without love. He loved all of Egypt, certainly, but this was something else entirely. This heat, passion, friction, intimacy—it wasn't something he could imagine giving up. It allowed him to surrender every part of himself, at least for a few stolen moments._

_Hikari gave a startled little squeak as he was pushed back; the mists around them solidified as they needed, and kept him from falling far. He pushed Atem back slightly, laughing faintly. "Impatient, tonight? Is it a special occasion?"_

_"I just need you... so much..." Atem murmured, burying his face in the crook of Hikari's slim neck. The other gasped as he bit down roughly._

_"Ah—! Lucky thing... these marks aren't there when we wake up... right...?"_

_Atem nodded, but was too busy to give the comment a proper answer. He didn't, besides, want to think about the waking world. He wanted to lose himself in the dream—in Hikari. He didn't want to be the Pharaoh, in that moment. He didn't even want to be Atem._

_Being Yami, to his Hikari, was enough._

_When both were thoroughly exhausted, trembling and spent, they lay together—Atem still languidly affectionate, stroking and kissing Hikari, unwilling to think about anything else. It was always hard to remember what his beloved looked like, when he woke, so he strove to etch every detail of Hikari's small body into his mind._

_"Yami?"_

_Atem looked up. "What is it?"_

_"Why do you love me?"_

_"Because you're here for me, in this way. Because you're beautiful, and you're kind, and you're clever, and you're skilled, and you're generous, and you're—“_

_Hikari kissed him to stem the flow of adoration. When he drew back, Atem followed; kept their faces close together._

_"Because you're willing to love me, in return. Not even knowing who I am. Not knowing my bloodline, not knowing my social position, not knowing my—“_

_"I don't need to know any of those things," Hikari murmured, cutting him off again, gently. "I know_ you _. That's more than enough."_

_And Atem nearly wept, because it was so pure—something he needed, so desperately. Even if Hikari was merely a making of his own mind, if didn't matter. The love between them was real, at least in the world of dreams, and that was, as Hikari had said, more than enough._

_"You have saved me from the darkness of my own mind, my Light..."_

_Hikari only smiled; kissed him, tenderly. "I love you, Yami."_

_"Love you too... so much..."_


	5. In which the Thief King gets drunk at a banquet and calls out the Pharaoh for his singing voice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter is exactly as silly as the title indicates. We need it, because the next one will be rather serious. ;^; Timeline-wise, it definitely takes place before Priest Seto's return. 
> 
> In other news, I love [the Osiris myth](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Osiris_myth) _a lot_.

Having the Thief King present at political banquets made a powerful statement, for Pharaoh Atem. The Thief King understood this, and besides the occasional quipping or petty thievery, he made a point of behaving at such events. In return, he was allowed to sit on Atem's left—Yugi, of course, sat on Atem's right—and Ryou sat either beside him or beside the Royal Husband, depending on the social context. Ryou, even more so than his King, realized the importance of such events and was always on his very best behavior.

Unfortunately, wine was an integral part of such banquets. Also unfortunately, Ryou Bakura couldn't monitor it's flow as closely as he'd like to whenever he was seated beside Yugi.

"Everyone, everyone, if I could have your attention for—for just a moment."

Atem's face lost a bit of its color as Bakura raised his voice in an entirely non-Pharaoh-approved address, swaying slightly as he stood up. Atem gave Yugi a mental prod without taking his eyes off the Thief King.

_"Partner, what's he doing? What in Ra's great name is he doing?"_

Yugi, in turn, whispered frantically to Ryou. The Thief King's husband could only shake his head, looking notably concerned—almost as concerned as Atem.

"The Pharaoh... he's a great guy," the Thief King said, when the table had quieted slightly. "I don't think there's a person here who'd argue with that, right?"

There was a lukewarm, somewhat confused murmur of agreement from the gathering.

 _"Should we stop him? What_ exactly _is happening, right now?"_ Atem demanded, even as Yugi and Ryou exchanged troubled whispers.

"The Pharaoh... is a great guy," Bakura said again, and a few people close enough to see exactly how _badly_ he was swaying started to chuckle. "I mean—I’m here! I’m alive! So I should know that better than any one of you soft, high-bred bastards who’s never once feared for your worthless, sand-encrusted lives, right? The Pharaoh is a _great guy_.”

Atem's face was gaining color, now, instead of losing it—ruddy, furious, embarrassed color. A few of the more serious (less drunk) nobles looked distinctly offended, even if a few of the less serious (more drunk) ones were shouting agreement or encouragement.

"But you guys know what the Pharaoh did last night?" Bakura continued, a wicked grin curling his lips. He raised his glass, even as Pharaoh Atem stood; realized what was about to happen a second too late to stop it. "He had a little too much to drink, as we all have at one time or another, and he started _singing_. And, much to my surprise, the Pharaoh is not only a great guy, but he's a great singer. Like, god on earth, folks, and the voice of a god, too—like, _voice of a god_. I think he should sing for us now, don't you? Shouldn't the Pharaoh treat his loyal followers to a divine serenade?"

There was a chorus of laughter and shouts of approval from the table, even as Atem wilted back into his chair and Ryou covered his face with his hands. Yugi patted Atem's shoulder and Ryou's back—simultaneously, and so a bit awkwardly on both accounts. Bakura grinned down at the Pharaoh as the gathering grew more insistent.

"What do you say, Pharaoh Horus? Your adoring followers await."

 _"This_ snake _!_ Atem spat, for Yugi's ears only.

 _"It could be worse..."_ Yugi offered. _"You could... you know,_ not _have a wonderful voice..."_

_"You've never heard me sing, Yugi."_

_"... Oh gods."_

_"Yugi, you've never heard me sing."_

_"You mean Bakura is lying...?!"_

_"Not about hearing me sing last night, he's not..."_

_"Oh Ra..."_

Bakura's grin widened as the banquet guests continued to urge their Pharaoh on. "How about it?" the Thief King called, to the trembling musicians. "How about 'Dirge for Osiris?' That's a great song to sing along to!"

It wasn't—it was well-known, but also a beautiful, dramatic song that required range and volume to carry off. Atem's face paled, and the musicians exchanged nervous, uncertain looks.

"The Pharaoh is a god, after all, isn't he?" Bakura crooned; took an unnecessary drink of his wine—evading the grab that Ryou made for the glass, from across the table. "He can give us a little song, if he's not frightened."

_"Pharaoh, you don't have to..."_

_"Well, now I do,"_ Atem replied bitterly. _"He's going back to the dungeons for this, I swear to Ra..."_

Atem stood slowly; stiffly. He held up his wine glass in what appeared to be a toast—an excuse, clearly, to drain it immediately thereafter. He motioned somewhat jerkily to the musicians as Bakura sat back down—clapping, and indeed igniting a brief flare of applause from about the table. The musicians, after another uncertain moment, started up the well-known song—the harpist taking the lyrical lead and the others following.

_"Pharaoh..."_

_"Please don't think less of me, my love."_

And then, Atem began to sing:

_"Rent apart, body and soul, by the cruel Desert..._  
_We search... we search..._  
_With beautiful Isis, we search..._  
_To bring you home... honored, beloved Lord..._  
_So you might, in turn, someday guide us home."_

Yugi's breath stalled as the Pharaoh's voice—though with a slight, scarcely perceivable tremble to it—filled the banquet hall sonorously. It was with the utmost precision and skill that he hit each note; enunciated each lyric. His hands, visible to Yugi, were shaking far worse than his voice as the table fell to stunned, reverent silence.

"Gods above..." Ryou breathed; Bakura, across the table, was nodding sagely, looking sinfully pleased with himself.

As the song ended, Atem bowed briefly; sunk back down into his seat with all the dignity he could manage. Cheers and congratulations swelled up around him, but he waved them off with only a cursory graciousness.

_"Oh, my poor, dear underlings... lying for my benefit..."_

_"Pharaoh, what are you talking about? That was_ beautiful _!"_

_"Oh, partner, not you too, please..."_

_"Pharaoh, you sing_ wonderfully _!"_

_"Please don't lie to me... this is too much..."_

"Pharaoh, that was gorgeous!" Ryou exclaimed softly, oblivious to his timing. He was surprised when Atem replied with only a baleful look.

_"And even little Ryou, too... it's too much, Yugi..."_

Yugi chuckled, then, because his Pharaoh—Egypt's earthly god—had no idea how he ridiculous he sounded; how beautiful his voice was, in truth. And Bakura, taking the liberty of pouring the Pharaoh more wine as he refilled his own glass, added his own due compliments to the chorus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much, as always, for your readership!! Q^Q Sorry I've been hit-or-miss with replies, lately--I've just been super tired. But your comments do bring me such joy. <3 
> 
> See you again soon, in the next chapter! :'D


	6. In which the King of Thieves spins bedtime stories for himself

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very fond of this chapter. Bakura has told Yugi, "[I grew up a bit feral, you know...](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13818006/chapters/33404310)" but I don't think Yugi realizes exactly what he means. Depending on my mood, I may go further into detail about it at some later date. I think feral-child headcanons are always interesting to explore, although unlikely given TK's canon behavior.

_"Sleep now, my dear,_  
_"Rest now your head,_  
_"For Ra will rise in the morn._

_"Sleep now, my love,_  
_"And dream of sweet waters,_  
_"For the Desert won't take you from me."_

Thief King Bakura stood outside the window, leaning back against the stone wall of the common house. Only fourteen, he had just recently decided that the city of Kul Elna was to be his; only just begun establishing his power, in the city. Common folk like this woman and her child wouldn't know of him, yet. 

_"Sleep now, my dear,_  
_"Rest now your head,_  
_"For Ra will rise in the morn..."_

The song was familiar to him—stirred dark, warm feelings deep in his psyche. 

_"Sleep now, my love,_  
_"And dream of sweet waters,_  
_"For the Desert won't take you from me."_

It was an extremely common lullaby—one almost every person in Egypt would know, and one Bakura had heard sung by a thousand voices. It was highly unlikely, he thought, that it had ever been sung _to him_ —far more likely, he thought, that the faint sensation of being held, of hearing a mother or father croon beside a crib, of hearing the song from _within_ that crib, was a mere projection of his own imagination. 

_"Sleep now, my dear,_  
_"Rest now your head,_  
_"For Ra will rise in the morn._

_"Sleep now, my love,_  
_"And dream of sweet waters,_  
_"For the Desert won't take you from me."_

Bakura had no memories of his parents—either of them. His earliest memories were of crawling in the dust along the alleys of some city he had long forgotten the identity of. He had grown up feral, and acquired more human-like behaviors only as he grew; only because he lived in a city inhabited by humans. Had he been abandoned in the wilderness, among wild dogs, he would have adopted their behavior; if he'd been thrown down into the underworld, he would have learned to act like a demon. As it was, he taught himself to do things like walk upright, and to speak and then to read, and to steal, with help from no one, parent or otherwise. But every time he heard that lullaby, he was compelled to stop; compelled to listen. 

_"Sleep now, my dear,_  
_"Rest now your head,_  
_"For Ra will rise in the morn."_

He mouthed the words, as the mother sang, from his interloper's spot beside the window. 

_"Sleep now, my love,_  
_"And dream of sweet waters,_  
_"For the Desert won't take you from me."_

Perhaps, Bakura thought, his parents were both dead. Perhaps they had left him not voluntarily, but because they had died of sickness or of hunger. 

_"Sleep now, my dear,_  
_"Rest now your head,_  
_"For Ra will rise in the morn."_

Perhaps, he thought, his mother had been alone when she had given birth, abandoned by his father before she had abandoned him. Perhaps she had died in childbirth, even, with no one there to help her. 

_"Sleep now, my love,_  
_"And dream of sweet waters,_  
_"For the Desert won't take you from me."_

Perhaps his parents had been afraid—mutually decided that, in a time of famine, they couldn't feed both themselves and a child. And so, instead of killing him or watching him waste away, they had disposed of him in some insignificant ally of some unnamed city. 

_"Sleep now, my dear,_  
_"Rest now your head,_  
_"For Ra will rise in the morn."_

Perhaps he had never been wanted. Perhaps they had planned to cast him out from the moment his mother had conceived him. Perhaps they had cursed him and wished him gone before he was even born, but he had stubbornly persisted. 

_"Sleep now, my love,_  
_"And dream of sweet waters,_  
_"For the Desert won't take you from me."_

Or perhaps his mother had screamed and sobbed, and it had been the pragmatic father who'd torn the babe from her arms; who'd insisted that they couldn't keep it, if they themselves were to survive the times of famine. Perhaps the father had done it out of selfishness, or perhaps he had done it out of a love so strong, for the child's mother, that it had driven him mad. Perhaps he'd cast away his son so that his wife might have enough to sustain her own body, and not bleed nutrients for the child. 

_"Sleep now, my dear,_  
_"Rest now your head,_  
_"For Ra will rise in the morn._

_"Sleep now, my love,_  
_"And dream of sweet waters,_  
_"For the Desert won't take you from me."_

_What a restless child..._ Bakura thought, _making its mother recite the lullaby so many times..._ He longed to be released from its spell; wished the child would sleep, and the mother fall silent, and the lamp be blown out before it could shed light on the tears coursing down his face. He didn't hate those who had beget him—couldn't hate them, when he didn't know who they were or why they'd left him. He couldn't hate them, not even when he contemplated the most deplorable of possibilities. And in light of that, he could only hate his own weakness. 

_"Sleep now, my dear,_  
_"Rest now your head,_  
_"For Ra will rise in the morn._

_"Sleep now, my love,_  
_"And dream of sweet waters,_  
_"For the Desert won't take you from me."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading, as always! I hope you're enjoying the stories thus far. <3 
> 
> The good-news/bad-news is that I do have two new projects in the works. I say good news because they are both YGO fics (one is an Egyptian!AU gemshipping story, about six or so chapters; the other is a what-if-Atem-and-Bakura-met-as-kids alternate continuum that's turning out to be _way_ longer than expected). I say bad news because they are to blame for the slowing of updates. I'll try to pick up the pace a bit; thank you for your patience. T^T


	7. In which Ryou's white hair is discussed at length (M)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play a fun game called _gemshipping has taken over my life_. :"D  
>  (keep an eye out for that new gemshipping fic I mentioned; I'm going to see if I can't manage to get it up tonight, too~) 
> 
> I made [a tumblr post](https://thosewhoruleegypt.tumblr.com/post/174201924485/do-you-guys-know-how-long-ryou-takes-every-night) a while back regarding Ryou's hair, and the difficulties concerning keeping it free of sand, and then I wrote this to further explore the topic. It turned out pretty mature, so fair warning~ >w>
> 
> You guys remember [the first time Ryou and Bakura met](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13614267/chapters/31394478), don't you? ~~sooo long ago, my gods...~~
> 
> [SUGGESTED LISTENING](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhOt8hvQ3-8)  
>  (I should just go ahead and make playlists at some point...)

"Come... to... bed...!" 

Thief King Bakura leaned off the edge of the canopied bed, one hand waving in a futile attempt to attract Ryou's attention. Ryou could see him in the bronze mirror, but didn't direct his gaze away from his own reflection. 

"Just a minute, my King..." He gave a particularly snarled bit of hair several quick flicks with his brush, then returned to the long strokes he favored. 

Bakura rolled onto his back; slid a bit further off the bed. "Your hair is _fine_..." he said. "It's gorgeous. It's _beautiful_! Please come to bed. I'll tangle it up again, just so you can spend all night combing it out again!" 

"Sand is difficult to get out," was Ryou's reply, and Bakura gave a disgruntled grumble. "Give me just a minute." 

With careful, thorough brushing, Ryou rid his silken white hair of the dreaded desert sand. The more time he spent in the palace, the more meticulous about such things he became. He appreciated how soft his hair had become, recently, and hated the idea that it picked up dirt and debris so easily. 

When at last he turned his attention to Bakura, the Thief King was lying face-down, arms dangling over the bed's edge. When Ryou climbed up beside him, though, he rolled over. 

"I was nearly asleep... I was nearly _dead_ ," Bakura said, but smiled when Ryou leaned over to kiss him. "I love you. You're beautiful. Your hair. Your eyes. Your skin. Your whole body..." 

"Stop it..." Ryou murmured, swinging one leg over Bakura's hips so he sat straddling them. He removed articles of clothing hastily, as if making up for the delay. Again he leaned down to kiss the Thief King, stripped him of his robes as well, and breathed, "I wasn't always. Did you love me then, too?" 

Bakura chuckled. "You were always beautiful... even then..." 

"I _might_ have been a pretty thing, once, isn't that what you said?" 

"Good memory. Too good." 

"I'll never forget the first time I heard your voice." 

"Isfet... was that really the first thing I ever said to you?" Bakura's hands wandered up Ryou's thighs as he spoke; meandered across hips and lower back. 

"That and something about selling me off, if I'd been in better shape..." Ryou murmured, between kisses. 

"Shit... I really fucked that one up, didn't I?" 

Ryou laughed, lightly. "And I still fell in love with you." 

"And I with you." 

When Thief King Bakura had first brought Ryou back to his hideout, he'd been unsure if the small boy would live. He told himself it didn't matter; convinced himself that it wouldn't bother him if the kid did die, after all. 

"I shouldn't've cared..." Bakura murmured, wrapping his arms around Ryou's shoulders. Ryou, surprised, paused in his own affections. "Shouldn't've..." 

"Hmm?" 

"When your hair..." Bakura pulled Ryou down closer; buried his face in the plush white, and murmured, "Your hair was so pretty. It was all scraggly, though. I thought it was brown, too, it was so filthy... but I washed it out... and it was so pretty... but I... thought..." 

Ryou made a questioning sound, but Bakura didn't respond. His grip on Ryou tightened further, and Ryou fell still; allowed himself to be held. 

When Thief King Bakura had first given the foundling a much-needed bath—though apprehensive about the possibility of him catching a chill—he’d been surprised to find that Ryou had exotically pale skin, beneath the layer of grime that had accrued. But even more startling had been his pure white hair, revealed after a thorough scrubbing—which had stained Bakura’s own nails brown—and several rinses. The Thief King’s first reaction had been awe—What a stunning creature he’d found! Though the boy was in poor condition, currently, it hadn't been difficult for Bakura to envision what he would look like, when restored to health. 

But white hair... pretty white hair, thinned and made coarse by hardship... white hair... 

Bakura remembered the cold terror he'd felt, when it had first occurred to him. He remembered the way his insides had constricted when he'd realized that starvation often led to the whitening of hair; he remembered the way his hands had started to shake when he realized that the very trait he was admiring could well be a sign of exactly how close to death the boy, Ryou, was. He had withdrawn, physically, lest Ryou feel his trembling, while the boy sat listlessly in the bath. 

_"Were you born with it? With your hair that color?"_

The Thief King had scraped together the courage to ask it, one day not long after. He had dreaded the answer. 

But Ryou had replied, _"Yes! Unusual isn't it? Why?"_

And Bakura had been able to smile; say, _"I was just wondering. It's beautiful, you know,"_ because his fears were without substance. He'd flipped Ryou gently onto his stomach, then—Ryou, still far too weak to effectively move about on his own. Ryou had squeaked in surprise, and stiffened when Bakura had buried his face in that thin, pretty white hair—nuzzled through it to kiss the crook of Ryou's neck. His hands massaged the wasted and aching muscles of the boy's back, seeking to relieve the pain there. 

_"Is this okay...?"_ he had breathed, close to Ryou's ear. 

_"It's okay, Thief King..."_

With the memory drawn powerfully into his mind, Bakura flipped their positions on the plush palace bedding. Ryou, who'd been drifting to sleep against his chest, squeaked in surprise. 

"I love you..." Bakura growled, and then turned Ryou onto his stomach; asked, with his face pressed into lush white hair, "Is this okay?" as he lifted Ryou's hips with one hand. 

"Gods, you don't have to ask that _every time_..." Ryou mumbled, fidgeting expectantly; shifting from side to side, lifting himself slightly and pushing backwards. 

Bakura chuckled. "Forgive me, my love..." and he ran his fingers languidly through Ryou's hair; tangled them, there, and pulled gently to raise Ryou's head; murmured, close to his ear, "I love you... I love you... I loved you long before I was supposed to love you..." 

Ryou made a soft, questioning sound that lapsed into a whine of pleasure as Bakura reached around his waist; Ryou buried his face in the pillow, lest that whine become a scream. 

_I thought it wouldn't matter... if you died..._ Bakura thought, relishing the feeling of Ryou's healthy body beneath him; breathing in the sweet floral scent that clung to his lush, dazzling white hair. 

The day—the hour—that they had met, the Thief King had crouched, uncertain, beside the poor thing as it lost consciousness. He had stared at the golden trinket left in his hand, and wondered what to do. 

_How much will it hurt..._ he had wondered, _if I take this kid in... and_ then _he dies? How much will it hurt if I try to save him, and it_ doesn't work _?_

That fear had almost been enough to make him rise; turn; walk away, and not look back to see if the pitiful thing had already stopped breathing. 

But he'd wavered, instead, and thought, _Ryou..._

He'd asked for the boy's name, and Ryou had given it to him. 

So the Thief King had picked Ryou up; felt the almost imperceptible weight of the boy's body, and smelled the same rot-scent that had clung to himself, for so many years. He had found himself frozen, there, holding Ryou like some fragile treasure. And he was, Bakura decided then—he _was_ a treasure, to be stolen and to be kept and to be cherished. 

_Why have you given him to me...?_ he had asked, of no god in particular, as he craned his head back to look at the sky. _Why now, when I've scarcely got the will to keep_ myself _living...?_

No answer had been forthcoming, and so the Thief King had sighed; shrugged his robe off of his shoulders and used it to wrap his newest treasure—to conceal him, on the way to the most secret of the Thief King's hideouts. All along, had he told himself that it wouldn't matter if Ryou died, after all. He told himself that the boy probably _would_ die, after all. 

At least he wouldn't die on the filthy streets, though. That, the Thief King had thought, would be some mercy, at least. And in that thought, buried so deep that he couldn’t detect it in order to deny it, was the hope that Ryou wouldn’t die at all. 

Ryou cried out softly, bringing Thief King Bakura back to the present. He blinked; marveled at the fact that that scrap of skin and bone he had picked up that day had become the gorgeous creature he was lucky enough to now be atop. He let himself slide across the inside of Ryou's thigh, hand moving gently and deliberately. Ryou's back arched, and neither shoulder blades nor spine looked like they might tear through. His skin, indeed, was flushed and soft; supple, no longer like over-dried papyrus beneath the pads of Bakura's fingers. 

One hand still tangled in Ryou's hair, the other moving low and rhythmically, Bakura kissed the crook of Ryou's neck; kissed his shoulder, and breathed, "I love you... I love you so much... You're so beautiful... so beautiful... you've always been... _always_...!" 

Ryou cried out; sobbed quietly, the sound muffled by a mouthful of blankets. He shuttered; convulsed, and Bakura held him steady. 

"I love you... I love you..." the Thief King breathed, again and then again. "I love you... I love you..." 

As Ryou quieted, he slumped to the bed; Bakura eased him down. After a moment, though, Ryou rolled over onto his back; fixed the Thief King with a half-lidded, coy gaze. His mouth was open slightly as he caught his breath. 

"I love you, too..." Ryou breathed, tipping his head back. "I love you... I adore you... I _worship_ you..." 

Bakura chuckled; leaned down and lavished kisses across Ryou's chest. Ryou wrapped his legs around the Thief King's hips, grinding upwards. 

"I love you... I live for you... Please, my King... take me... _steal me away_..." 

"As my love commands. I am yours."


	8. In which Pharaoh Atem spars with the King of Thieves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with this one. <3

"Don't... don't commit so completely," Thief King Bakura growled. "You haven't got the weight to back up that kind of punch. You've got speed, and you've got agility. Use them. Don't bet too much on power." 

Atem nodded; mimicked the Thief King's stance, beside him, and lowered himself into a half-crouch when Bakura did so. 

"Yeah... like that. Stay low. Be quick." Bakura lunged at an invisible enemy; jabbed repeatedly, too fast to count the number of times. Then he settled back into the crouch, for a moment, before straightening up. "See?" 

Atem nodded; stayed low as Bakura walked around to face him, then crouched down and held up his palms. 

"Try it. C'mon, hit me. Aim for my hands. What you lack in power, you can make up for with precision, in a real fight." 

Atem nodded again; shifted his weight and struck. Bakura moved deftly to catch the blows, taking three to his hands before he grabbed one of Atem's fists; twisted it slightly, jerking the Pharaoh off-balance and making him hiss with pain. 

"Not bad, but don't let me do this," Bakura growled, twisting Atem's arm harder; pulling him forward. "This'll kill you."

"You told me to aim for your _hands_ ," Atem hissed. 

"And if you'd been aiming for my ribs, I'd have grabbed your _wrist_ , which probably would've hurt worse," Bakura said calmly. "Now, how'd you get loose from this, do you think?" 

Atem grimaced; tried to get past his own discomfort and think. 

"You can't beat me, grip-strength wise," Bakura said patiently. "So think. If I pull you closer..." 

Atem hissed as he was dragged inches forward, and he struck—without particularly thinking—at Bakura's face. The Thief King caught his other hand; smiled. 

"Exactly." He let go, and Atem stumbled back. "If I pull you closer, I bring my own soft targets—throat and eyes, primarily—into range." 

"Let's try it again." 

"Alright." Bakura crouched again; held up his hands, and Atem shifted thoughtfully. He struck again; avoided Bakura's grab, this time. "Good." Atem's fist thudded into Bakura's palm; Bakura flicked out a foot and swept his legs out from under him, and Atem yelped as he fell with a _whump_ and a puff of sand. "But don't focus so much on your hands that you lose track of your feet." Bakura offered his hand; Atem huffed, but accepted the gesture and heaved himself up. "Again?" 

"Again," Atem agreed, bouncing slightly as he crouched down. 

Bakura grinned. "Here we go. Now you've got the spirit of the thing." 

Atem struck. Bakura caught his first few punches; didn't try to grab him, but swept out a foot almost immediately. Atem skipped back; stayed upright, and Bakura murmured a passing compliment. Atem feigned left; struck right, and caught Bakura's forearm as the Thief King brought it up for a hasty block. Bakura lunged and Atem skipped backwards, then ducked as Bakura threw an intentionally slow punch of his own; darted in under the Thief King's guard. Bakura adjusted, catching both of Atem's wrists and yanking them above his head. 

"The Pharaoh's a quick study, ay? Almost got to me, there..." 

Atem kicked out; clipped Bakura's shin, and the Thief King grunted in surprise. Atem lifted himself off the ground by Bakura's grip on his wrists, then hooked one foot around Bakura's knee and jerked it out from under him. The Thief King stumbled. 

Atem grunted as his feet hit the ground, and he heaved himself backwards; pulled Bakura off-balance. The Thief King gave a stifled cry as both of them tumbled, Atem hitting the ground on his back with the Bakura atop him. They stilled, both slightly short of breath, and then Bakura began to laugh heartily. 

"Nice move. But getting pinned by someone bigger than you is basically game over. And almost _everyone_ is bigger than you, Horus, so it might not be your best bet." 

The Pharaoh smiled wryly. "Fair enough. Would you kindly?" 

Bakura chuckled, then sat up; offered his hand, and again pulled Atem up with him. They squared off once again, Bakura giving brief critique and Atem nodding seriously.

... ... ... 

"Oh by all the gods that was hot..." Ryou breathed, his chin sinking onto his arms as he peered out from beneath the bushes. Yugi whacked him gently on the shoulder. "What? Are you saying you _don't_ think so?"

"I don't need to _say_ anything," Yugi said, eyes fixed on the Pharaoh and the King as they began again to spar. " _Or_ pant like a dog." 

"But that _was_ hot, right?" 

Yugi relented. "Extremely." 

"Set, even I can admit that was hot," Jounochi, smushed against Yugi's other side, put in. "And Kaiba's my man, but damn!" 

"Who invited you?" Ryou asked, a bit sorely, and Jounochi shrugged. 

"Kaiba might have kind of sent me to spy... but this is way more fun, anyhow." 

"You don't—“ Ryou began, but Yugi shushed him frantically. 

"Guys, guys, stop it! Look! The shirts just came off!" 

Ryou's head snapped instantly forward, and Yugi gave a dreamy sigh. Jounochi whistled softly. 

"Bastet, you guys are lucky...!" 

"Don't get any weird ideas," Ryou muttered. "You've got Priest Seto, remember..." 

"Hey, I do, and Priest Seto's every _bit_ as beautiful," Jounochi scoffed. "That's not the point, though." 

"Gods above..." Yugi breathed, as Atem and Bakura went tumbling together across the ground. 

Ryou sighed wistfully. "Gods right here, more like... Gods on earth..." 

"Gods on earth..." Yugi agreed vaguely, as Bakura's laughter floated over to them. The Thief King helped the Pharaoh to his feet. "It's nice to see them getting along so well, too..." 

"Hey, wouldn't it be hot if they got _really_ friendly with each other?" Jounochi asked, and the other two looked sharply over at him. 

"Jounochi...! How could you—?!" 

"Great Kauket, you're so bloody right..." 

Yugi turned in surprise as Ryou said it, and Ryou blushed as he _realized_ he'd said it. After a tense moment, Yugi sighed and laid his head down on his crossed arms, returning his gaze to the sparring match. 

"Gods, both of you are crazy..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~sometimes I fall into Casteshipping hell for a while and Ryou is right there with me, okay??~~   
>  (also here's some proof that I haven't forgotten about Jou and Seto completely, whoops...)
> 
> I appreciate you guys so much! Hope you got a kick out of this one~


	9. In which Yugi decides to coax Ryou from his room, one sweltering summer afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DEEPEST apologies, folks, I'm trying super hard to get this AU un-stuck and rolling again. There are a couple of plot-important drabbles that need to happen before the next main story starts up, and those are the ones that really... just don't want to be written... ~~isn't that always how it goes?~~ |'D 
> 
> SOOO while I try to work out the tangles, here's a quick Ryou-centric drabble because it's the boy's birthday. <3 I have a real birthday present for him (a oneshot) that I'm trying to get up by the end of the night, but we shall see, haha.

"Ryou?" Yugi poked his head into the room shared by the Thief King and his husband, calling out to his friend. Ryou glanced up from where he lay on the bed—on his back, legs tucked halfway up and hair tied loosely. His clothing was light enough so as to be almost see-through, and the hand-fan he held was moving quickly and rhythmically. The curtains were drawn tightly. 

"Ah. Lord Yugi. How are you?" 

"Hot," Yugi said, with a sympathetic smile. It was the middle of summer, and even denizens of the desert wouldn’t be caught active in the hottest parts of the day. The palace was better off than most other places—it was fairly sealed off, from the sweltering outside, and Atem’s magicians kept chilled air circulating as best they could. Yugi himself noticed and greatly appreciated how supernaturally cool the Pharaoh’s bedding was, just as it was warm during the frigid winter nights. 

Yugi reflected, as he sat on the edge of his friend's bed, that Ryou had it somewhat worse than most. His skin was pale, and burnt easily; Yugi had seen it happen, and Bakura was constantly worrying over it. His hair, too, was so long and thick that it must make the heat all the more unbearable. 

“Do you want to play a game of senet, to pass the time?” 

“Too hot...” Ryou mumbled, turning his head sideways. “I’d sleep, but it’s too hot to manage _that_ , even...” 

Again, Yugi gave a sympathetic smile—more of a grimace, this time. Ryou’s body, too, was softer—had grown plush about the edges, as of late. Yugi’s tiny, lithe form was far better at letting off heat; Atem had a similar advantage. 

“Where’s Bakura?” 

Ryou shook his head. “Don’t know... kicked him out of bed a couple hours ago... it's like lying next to sack of hot coals...” 

The Thief King, Yugi knew, wasn’t fantastic at tolerating the heat either, but did so uncomplainingly. It amused—and somewhat pleased—the Royal Husband that Ryou had grown spoiled enough to meet the misery with somewhat more complaint. 

“I’m sure Bakura would turn himself to ice, if he could, to keep you cool.” 

That got a breathy chuckle from Ryou. “I’m sure. He is good for keeping warm on winter nights, though.” 

“C’mon,” Yugi urged gently. “We’ll go down to the inner gardens. Put our feet in the pond. That’ll help. I’ll bring the senet board.” 

Ryou mumbled something disgruntled, then sighed and sat up with a soft groan. He shook his head; folded up the fan, and gave Yugi a weary smile. 

“Alright, Lord Yugi. We’ll go down to the garden.” 

Yugi smiled; waited as Ryou tied his hair up more securely, and then changed into something slightly more presentable. They exchanged inconsequential gossip as they walked, and Ryou had perked up a bit by the time they reached the garden. Yugi flagged down a servant; requested chilled wine and sweetbreads be brought. They slipped off their sandals, then, and sat at the edge of the pool; dangled their feet in the cool water, and laughed as they played senet. 

Perhaps the gods tempered the heat, for a while, out of difference for the Great Royal Husband and his friend. Or perhaps it was only a trick of distraction that made it seem that way.

... ... ... 

“... Bakura...”

“Hrrrm?” 

“... Get out of my bed.” 

“Then ask your magicians to cool our bed, too!” 

“I don’t _ask_ my magicians to do this for me,” Atem muttered, glaring over from his desk. “That would be presumptuous. And entitled.” 

“You’re very right, it would be,” Bakura said, flipping over onto his back and hanging his head over the edge of the bed. “But it would be _generous_ and _gracious_ of you to ask them to do it for Ryou and I. Don’t you think?” 

“... I’ll see what I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I swear I'll get some more substantial content up for this project soon~ Thanks for sticking with me, as always! :'D


	10. In which the King of Thieves teaches the Great Royal Husband his trade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please know that Bakura gets _really_ bored sometimes... x'D 
> 
> I'm so sorry this little hiatus has gone on so long!! This is actually one of those plot-important tidbits that I've been hung up on, so hopefully things will start rolling again, with this one out of the way... :P Thank you so much for sticking with me!! Since this ~~problematic~~ chapter is so short anyhow, I'm going to try to update again today~

“There’s _no_ lock I can’t foil!” Bakura announced one day—upon casually breaking into Yugi and Atem’s room in the middle of the afternoon. While Atem looked duly affronted, glaring over from where he sat at his desk, Yugi hopped up off the bed and moved to meet the King of Thieves. 

“How did you do that?” he asked, and Atem made a small, distressed little sound. 

Bakura grinned; knelt. “Step into the Court of the Thief King, dear pharaoh-ling.” Yugi knelt beside him, and Bakura gave his wrist a little flick; a piece of metal dropped from his sleeve into his palm, and placed it into Yugi's hand. “Take a look. I’m _never_ without a couple of these little beauties.” 

Yugi examined the object—nothing more than a shard of metal, like a needle for sewing, with one end slightly bent. “How does it work?” 

Bakura had produced a second one, by then, and motioned to the lock on the door. “Slip it in, like this... and then feel around... for... where it hooks.” There was an audible _click_ , and Bakura twisted his wrist; the lock turned, the bolt snapping out into open air. “Like that. Your door is a bit trickier than most, even, but it’s not that hard if you’ve got the right tool.” 

“So the genius of the Thief King is reliant on his tools?” Atem asked derisively, from where he still sat at his desk. Bakura drew his lip back. 

“My fingers used to be small enough to do the trick, but that was a long time ago. The great thing about these little picks, though, is you can make them out of most anything.” Bakura let the tool drop back into his sleeve. He pulled out a knife; slipped a chain from around his neck, and used the knife’s tip to pry one of the links open. Within a few seconds, he’d straightened, whittled, and re-bent the chain link into one of his little tools. He flicked it at Atem, who ducked. 

“Nice party trick,” Atem said dryly, straightening again and crossing his arms. “But I’ve never heard of any guards who let you keep a gold chain and a dagger.” 

“First of all, guards miss things all the damn time, especially things as small as this,” Bakura said. “Second of all, it takes a bit more time, but _any_ scrap of metal will do, and any sharp edge will work just fine as a whittle.” 

Atem grimaced, then looked over when Yugi gave an excited little yelp. He’d gotten the bolt to slide back into the door, and beamed at Bakura. 

“I got it!” 

“Well done, pharaoh-ling,” the Thief King crooned. “With how skilled you are at puzzles, I expected no less.” When Yugi tried to hand him the pick back, Bakura shook his head. “No telling when you’ll need one.” 

“Don’t teach my husband your criminal tricks,” Atem said flatly, turning back to the work on his desk. 

“And if my criminal tricks save his life, one day?” Bakura asked. 

“Then I’ll owe you my soul,” Atem answered, without hesitation. “Doesn’t mean I approve.”


	11. In which Priest Seto greatly overestimates his own abilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't realize until earlier today that it was both of their birthdays! This actually worked out perfectly~
> 
> Thank you so much for your readership and support! :'D

It started with a smart remark—as did most inter-palace drama, if the truth was to be told. 

"It must be nice to have underlings to fight your battles for you." 

High Priest Seto swung about the courtyard, trying to locate the source of the voice. When it wasn't readily apparent, he called, "Show yourself, coward thief!" 

"Have you _ever_ relied on your own strength?" came the voice again, and Seto stalked first one way, then the other; checked behind a cluster of bushes. "Or just had your loyal underlings deal with any trouble?” 

"At least I don't hide my face in my own damn palace!" Seto spat, spinning again with a swish of his expensive robes. He yelped when Bakura swung into view, hanging inverted from a tree branch. 

"At least I don't yowl like a dog when something startles me," the Thief King said, and the High Priest straightened indignantly. 

"You're all posturing, thief. Depending on cheep tricks to get the better of anyone you don't like." 

"Are you saying I'm all talk?" the Thief King asked, with mock surprise. He dropped down from his tree; landed on his hands, and swirled smoothly up onto his feet. "Gutsy thing to say, especially for someone who acts so gutless most of the time." 

Seto threw the first punch; Bakura was unprepared, but dodged to the side with a soft, "Whoa, there!" Seto lunged again; as Bakura moved to block, he struck suddenly from the other side, landing a solid punch that sent the Thief King skidding several inches backwards. 

"Let's see you talk so provocatively with a broken jaw," the High Priest sneered, as Bakura wiped a drizzle of blood from his chin. 

"Better shot than I expected..." the Thief King growled. "But if you think I'll just take it—!” 

Bakura lunged, drilling a fist into the underside of Seto's rib-cage. The High Priest wheezed, but grabbed Bakura's shoulders and wrenched him off-balance; tangled their feet, and so sent then both crashing to the ground. They rolled over once, twice; the Thief King managed to get on top and punched Seto in the face once, twice. 

"Hey! Hey! Damn it, Bakura! Seto!" 

The Thief King looked up at the shout, and the High Priest took the opportunity to ram his knee up into Bakura's stomach. The Thief King gasped as he lost his breath, and Seto—with superior height—threw himself up and flipped their positions. Bakura, upon finding himself pinned, grabbed the front of the High Priest’s shirt and smashed their foreheads together. Seto reeled and Bakura grabbed his shoulders; wrenched him sideways and into the sandy turf. 

"Gods damn you both!" Pharaoh Atem was still shouting, and when Bakura sprang up Atem immediately placed himself between the two men. Seto, slower, staggered to his feet and raised his fists. "Stop it! Both of you!" 

Bakura was grinning—a wild, slightly open-mouthed grin, breath huffing in and out between his teeth, heedless of the blood still dripping from his mouth. "Oh, no fun, Horus, no fun!" he wined, and made a feint towards Seto. The High Priest jumped, but Pharaoh Atem didn't budge. 

"Stop it!" Atem repeated furiously, and then turned to his cousin. "I expected better from _you_! My High Priest, brawling in my front courtyard of all places?" 

Seto grimaced; staggered, a bit, and shook his head as though dizzy. "I... sorry, my cousin... Pharaoh..." 

"How hard did you hit him?" Atem asked Bakura, who shrugged. 

"No harder'n he hit me." 

"Oh... Bastet, why are there two of you, now?!" Seto demanded, pointing at Bakura and again lurching to one side. 

"Damn it, Bakura..." Atem muttered. 

"Oh, it went from 'damn both of you' to just 'damn it, Bakura?'" the Thief King asked, making an effort to look hurt. "How unfair, Pharaoh..." 

"He's no fighter!" Atem said, with an exasperated motion at Seto. 

Bakura gestured to his jaw—swelling now, visibly. "Could've fooled me." 

"He got in a lucky shot," Atem said flatly, and Seto glared blearily at him. 

"Don't underestimate me, Cousin..." 

Atem fixed him with a baleful look. "Don't go trying to brawl with experienced fighters, then. A crooked nose wouldn't suit you." 

Seto looked mildly alarmed at that proposition; staggered again, suddenly, and Atem caught his arm. A concerned huddle of palace-folk had formed, by then, and Atem handed the High Priest off to a servant. 

"Make sure he goes straight to the healers," the Pharaoh told the girl, who nodded seriously. Then Atem turned to Bakura; jerked his head. "Walk with me." 

"What, I don't get to go see the healers?" 

"You'll survive." 

The palace-folk took their cue; left the Pharaoh and the Thief King to themselves. They wove together through the carefully cultivated gardens in silence, the late summer sun warming their backs. 

"He threw the first punch," Bakura said, without preamble. 

"Hmm." 

"Sorry if we wrecked any of your flowers." 

Atem sighed. "Flowers are flowers. They'll grow back." 

"Sorry. It got out of hand." 

Atem shrugged. "I'm not upset. It just worries me that you two are on such earnestly bad terms. And I know," he added, when Bakura began to speak, "that it's all in good fun, to you. But not to him. Seto might really take your head off, if given half a chance." 

"He couldn't." 

"He _could_. He killed both our fathers, you know. Poisoned them." 

Bakura blinked. "Oh. Gods, no, I didn't know that. I'm... sorry?" 

"It isn't exactly common knowledge. For obvious reasons." 

"Obviously not." 

"It was in defense of me," Atem said, with a hint of a smile, "so I'm in no position to complain, but my cousin _is_ capable of murder. And if he gets it into his head that you're a threat, to him or to me, he might just take matters into his own hands. That's what I'm nervous about." 

"Poison, huh...?" 

"He knows I'd be rather cross," Atem continued, "but my disapproval will only stop him to a point. If you agitate him enough, I can't guarantee how he'll act." 

"Poison doesn't really work on me," Bakura said, after a moment. "But I'll keep an eye out for knives in my bed." 

"Do that." 

"His namesake suits him." 

"Set..." Atem murmured, and then nodded. "Unfortunately so. But with one very important difference—he supports me, as pharaoh. 

"Sure. He supports you so well that he ran off to play with the god cards for how long? Almost a year, right?" 

"I've never feared that he might try to take the throne," Atem said, with a sigh. "And he's back, now. It was hard, for us both." 

"You're too generous, Horus. And don't you dare take that as a compliment, because it's not." 

Atem smiled grimly. "Perhaps... but he's my brother. And a far better brother than Set to Horus, in the legends." 

"The legends set a pretty low standard, if that's your basis for comparison." 

"Seto has his troubles. But I could count on him, if I needed. I would bet my life on that." 

Bakura sighed; shook his head and shrugged. "You know him better than I do..." 

"I do. But do watch yourself a bit more, around him. A crooked jaw wouldn't suit you any more than a crooked nose would suit him." 

"You don't think it'd add to my dangerous look?" Bakura asked, grinning. 

"I think the scar does just fine," Atem said, glancing over. "Besides, Ryou would be very upset." 

"You're right about that... aah, he's going to be upset enough about this..." Bakura rubbed his jaw. 

"Go to the healers now." Atem gave a dismissive wave. "They'll be able to bring the swelling down." 

"Sorry." 

"It's fine. Just don't let it happen again." 

"Now be sure you lecture your good cousin with just as much authority, okay?" 

Atem narrowed his eyes. "My authority has never worked on either of you. I know the best I can do is _ask_ you both to be civil, as a favor." 

... ... ... 

"... Bakura..." Pharaoh Atem began.

"Hmm?" 

"Would you like to tell me why you're wearing Seto's headdress?" 

Bakura looked up from his seat on one of the courtyard benches, the headdress in question slipping slightly to the side. "Why, it has a serpent on it, and one that quite resembles Diabound, too. I supposed that made it mine, actually." 

Atem massaged his forehead with one hand. "I asked you... please..." 

"I don't owe you any favors, Pharaoh." 

Atem was drawing breath when he was cut off by a far angrier, indignant shout of, "You wretched thief!" and Bakura sprang to his feet. 

"You'll have to forgive me, Lord Horus! Another time!" He waved, then darted off through the garden, one hand clutching the headdress. 

Atem stepped obligingly out of the way as his High Priest gave furious chase, albeit with a shout of, "Apologies, Cousin! Pardon me!" and then vanished from sight after Bakura. 

The Pharaoh considered his options for a moment, then sunk down onto the bench and cradled his head in his hands.


End file.
